TROUBLE
by HeadlessHuntsman
Summary: A young eleven year old Hermione is in trouble.


**A/N: This was written for two challenges. The first was the Second Person POV by obsessivegirl73 the second was Masks and Teapots' Women to look up to challenge. **

**Disclaimer: I own none of what you recognize. I would be remiss if I did not say that this was inspired by a fiction I read on another site a few years ago. I could not find it again and so I cannot properly thank the inspiration. If this is you, sorry and thanks. :)**

**TROUBLE**

"Hermione." your father calls you. "Can you come down here?"

No! You will not go down there. You know that voice, and it's the voice he uses when you're in trouble. It doesn't happen often. You're a good girl. You always make your bed and do as you're told. You never read your favorite books until after you're done with your homework. You practice the piano, like they want you to, for thirty minutes a day. All your parents' friends say how lucky they are to have such a well-behaved young girl.

So you sit at your desk and curl your legs around the chair. You will not go down.

"Hermione Jean Granger, you will come down here, now!" That was your mum. Ok so you guess you will go.

You walk down the stairs as slowly as is humanly possible, dragging your feet on every step. You hear voices you do not recognize talking to your parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger you need to understand this can be quite serious ." A man's voice says.

"Come on Malcolm," a female says, "it's not that serious."

You walk into the living room to see two people dressed in odd clothes talking to your parents. They remind you of that funny man who came to tell your parents that you were a witch. Ever since that odd man came, your life has changed. You have been furiously preparing to become, as the man put it, "A Muggle-Born witch". You've read the book of standard spells three times. You now have all sorts of books for classes you've never heard of: Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts and your favorite History of Magic. You even have a wand! Nothing has ever felt quite as 'right' as your wand.

"Hermione, this is Mr. Malcolm and Ms. Reynolds," your father says adopting his "Dad Voice". "They are officials from the Ministry of Magic."

You swallow hard and nod. You have no Idea what that is but it sounds very important.

"H-H-Hello Mr.. Malcolm, Ms. Reynolds." You stammer , wondering what could have brought such important people to your little house.

"Miss. Granger at exactly four twenty-seven this afternoon a Scourgify charm was performed from this residence," Mr. Reynolds starts sounding very stern. "And being that you are the only magic using person at this residence then it has been determined that the charm was performed by you. Is that correct?" The man looks over the top of his glasses at you.

You nod your head. "I was just doing my chores and thought it would go faster." You say almost in tears.

"Miss Granger, the use of magic, outside of school, by children under the age of seventeen is a violation of the Statute of Secrecy set forth by the British Ministry of Magic," Mr. Malcolm continues. "We have these laws for a reason. Can you imagine if we were to let every child who wanted to cast spells..."

You drown him out. Your brain has gone fuzzy. You have no idea what the Statute of Secrecy is, but it sounds really important. All you can process is that you have broken the law. You have broken the law. YOU HAVE BROKEN THE LAW!

"Miss Granger," Mr. Malcolm snaps, "are you listening to me?" You brain cannot process what it is hearing. You keep saying your mantra over and over, in your head. You feel as if there is no breath in your chest.

Your mother rushes to your side. "Hermione, you're turning white!" She exclaims. "You're sweating! Are you ill?"

Finally you find the breath enough to speak.

"PLEASE DON'T ARREST ME!" You wail.

The room goes into a panic. The Ministry officials have never encountered a reaction like this.

"I DON'T WANNA GO TO JAIL!," You scream between panicked sobs. "Nobody told me." You say quietly. The another wave of panic set in. "NOBODY TOLD ME!" You break down and fall to the floor in a fetal position.

"Now Miss. Granger, calm down," Ms. Reynolds talks slowly. "Mr. Malcolm may have made it sound more serious than it is."

You don't register her words, as you have started to make a sound somewhere between crying and a wounded seal.

"Miss Granger?" Ms. Reynolds is still trying to talk to you. "Did you hear me? You are not in trouble and most certainly will not be going to jail, right Mr. Malcolm?"

"Well, yes I suppose this can serve as your official warning..."

You cut off what he is saying with a new series of rocking and sobs.

Ms. Reynolds steps forward and elbows Mr. Malcolm out of the way. "What he means to say," she looks at him sharply and shakes her head, "is that you are not in trouble. As a matter of fact, there has never been another case of a Muggle-born successfully performing magic before entering school." She says sounding a little impressed. "So I am not even sure the Statute applies in this case and if, as you say, you were never told then there will not even be an official warning."

You continue to sit in the fetal position as your mother checks your forehead and your father checks your pulse. Your sobs are quieter but deeper.

"Jean, do you think we should take her to Accident and Emergency?" Your father asks.

Mr. Malcolm steps forward and starts to speak. Apon hearing his voice you start to wail again.

Your father stands up. "Have you said what you came here to say?" He asks forcefully. "Then I think you should leave." He points at the door.

The two officials quickly leave the house. Two popping sounds, from the front porch, are ignored by your mum and dad, as they debate whether or not to take you to the hospital.

You pull yourself to a seated position and hug your knees to your chest.

You have decided to adopt a new mantra.

"I will never again break the rules... I will never again break the rules... I will never again break the rules..."


End file.
